Chapter 7

As she walked ahead of me, no rush in her movements, I followed at a slower pace. Being near someone who didn’t flinch at me or want to hurt me just felt weird. 

Her calm made my nerves feel louder, sharper. After days of running, every little sound put me on edge.

“Almost there,” she said. I didn’t respond because my voice still felt stuck in my throat.

A few minutes later, we stepped out into a clearing with a small wooden cabin. Nothing fancy. The wood was dark and old, but the roof looked solid. Worn, but not abandoned, like someone lived there but didn’t want visitors. 

The woman went straight inside. I stopped in the doorway, and  waited. For a snare, a weird smell, a sudden attack, anything. But the cabin just sat there, quiet.

“Come in,” she called. “Or stay out there until you pass out. Up to you.”

That made something tight in my chest loosen a bit. So I stepped inside.

And a small fire crackled in the stone fireplace on the left, warming the room. The whole place was one room, except for a curtain hiding a storage space. There was a wooden table and two chairs by the fire. A bed against the far wall, all made up. Blankets hung from a line to dry.

“Sit,” she said, pointing at a chair.

I didn’t argue but sat.

She then grabbed a round tin from a shelf , and popped the lid. The smell of herbs rushed out as she took a little pot, poured in hot water from the fire, and stirred in the herbs.

“What’s your name?” she asked, still stirring.

I froze. Names had weight. Names were dangerous. If she knew..if she figured out I was Aria Kael, the lost heir, things could go bad in a blink of an eye. She just waited, watching me.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I let out a breath. “Aria,” I said, barely above a whisper.

She nodded, like she already knew. “I’m Lysa.”

She poured the brew into a wooden cup and set it in front of me. “Drink.”

“What is it?” I took a sniff. Bitter. Strong. Earthy.

“Tea for pain. And the shaking,” she said, her voice gentler. “Your wolf is young, scared, it needs to settle.”

I stared at the cup, then sipped. The taste was awful—so bitter it made my face twist—but warmth slid down my throat, spreading into my chest and my hands quit shaking so much. Helena, somewhere deep inside me, seemed to sigh and settle, like a tired animal curling up to sleep. Lysa sat across from me, hands folded.

“How long have you been running?”

I didn't want to talk, but the silence was heavy. “Since last night.”

“That’s a long time.” I nodded. She studied me. Not pitying. Just looking.

“You’re hurt,” she said. “First time shifting?”

My heart jumped. “Yeah.”

“Bad?”

“The worst.”

She just hummed. “First shifts always hurt. Yours was late, too. Most shift younger.”

I stared down at my hands. “I wasn’t... allowed.”

Something flickered across her face but too fast for me to read. “I see.” She didn’t ask any more questions, and I was glad.

Then she got up, fetched a bowl of water and a cloth, before kneeling beside me, gently taking my arm. I tensed, but she just cleaned the dried blood away, slow and careful.

“Who did this?” she asked, her voice low.

My throat closed. “My pack.”

She went still. “They beat you?”

“They rejected me,” I said. That last word almost broke me.

She didn’t speak for a long moment as she finished cleaning my arm, then moved to my legs. “You must have run far after that.”

“I had to.”

“They would have hurt you again?”

They wanted me gone.

Lysa paused, a soft, low growl in her chest, “No wolf should be hunted by their own,” she said quietly.

I didn’t answer to that, I couldn’t. Instead tears burned in my eyes, but I blinked them away. I hated crying. Hated feeling this raw.

She finished with my last cut and looked me in the eye. “Stay tonight,” she said. “Longer, if you need to.”

I opened my mouth to refuse. Didn’t want to bring trouble to her door. If Eden sent someone, if someone tracked me... But Lysa raised a hand, stopping me. “You won’t bring danger here. This place is hidden. And I can defend it.”

I believed her. She smelled old, but strong. Maybe not an Alpha, but something close, maybe a fighter once. “Thank you,” I said. It felt strange, but right.

That night, Lysa made a thin soup with dried vegetables. It wasn’t much, but after days of running on empty, it tasted like a feast. I ate slow, savoring every bite. 

After having dinner, I laid on a little rug near the fire, my body heavy with warmth and exhaustion. Then she tossed me a blanket and nodded toward a spot by the wall. “Sleep there,” she said. And I didn’t argue as I flopped down, wrapped myself in the blanket and let my eyes close. My breath slowed way down. Even Helena, who’s usually a restless storm inside my head, seemed to chill out and get quiet.

I didn't fall asleep right away though, and I could hear Lysa’s voice. “You’ve been hurt real bad, kid, but you ain’t broken. Not yet anyway.” Her words were like a soft lullaby washing over me.

I woke up before sunrise to Lysa chopping wood outside. My body still ached like crazy. Sitting up made my ribs scream, but I managed to stand anyway. I slipped outside, trying to be quiet, but Lysa noticed.

“Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” I mumbled back.

“Sleep okay?”

“Better than I expected.”

She nodded, then told me to come closer. When I did, she shoved an axe into my hands. “You’re gonna help.”

I stared at her. “Me?”

“You wanna get stronger, right? This helps.” She grabbed another log and set it down. “Strength comes from moving, not hiding. Get your body working. Listen to your wolf.”

I gripped the axe, feeling very nervous. “I don’t know how.”

Then she came up behind me. “Lift your arms. Keep your elbows still. Take a breath before you bring it down.”

I tried. My arms were shaking so bad and Helena watched from inside, calm but interested.

“Again,” Lysa said.

So I did it again. And again.

Every swing sent pain shooting through my shoulders, my ribs, my legs. But each time I hit the wood, something changed. It wasn't just pain—it felt like I was dumping out all the bad stuff, like anger, fear, and shame with every swing.

Finally, I split a log right down the middle. Lysa nodded, and for a moment I could see warmth in her eyes. “Good. You’ll learn.”

Just a couple of words, that were nothing fancy, but they warmed me up way more than the fire did.

Maybe I could learn and be more than just the girl who always got knocked down. Maybe I could turn into someone Helena wouldn’t have to hide with.

For the first time since my parents died, a fragile hope started to grow inside me, but it was still hope all the same.